


Nothing Good About Me Came From You

by tuz



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Female Sawada Tsunayoshi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 21:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9846782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuz/pseuds/tuz
Summary: Tsunahime woke up to hospital room and a legacy she couldn't control





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hitman Reborn  
> Please comment

There is absolutely nothing extraordinary about Sawada Tsunahime. Her hair is a light brown, almost reddish orange, but that can be blamed on the constant sun that beams down on Namimori. Her eyes are dull, not any more different than the millions of other Japanese girls that exist, indeed there is nothing extraordinary about Tsunahime. Except her eyes are dark, heavy in a way that someone would associate with grief and illness and not the below average grades that seem to follow the girl. Her hands shake when she raises them in class and she wakes up every day by crying, without fail.

Her mother worries, because her daughter shrinks into herself instead of blooming outward. Her daughter seems to chuckle instead of laugh like she used to and when Tsunahime holds her chopsticks for dinner the rattle against the rim of the bowl. Tsunahime is limber and a short and with a casual disregard for people that are not her mother and the few people she has claimed as hers. No one should touch them because they cared for her when no one else did and they protect her when it seems like her spine will break under the weight of her life, and they held her while she bleeds, the scent of metal overriding the freshly cut grass. 

Her friends are loyal to her, which doesn’t explain why her mother is frantically calling her absent father more and more. Speaking in a hushed tone about how her daughter isn’t well and she won’t speak to anyone and something is wrong. Tsunahime, for her part, chooses to turn a blind eye to her mother’s attempts to cheer her up, making all of her daughter's favorite dishes when she comes home from school or urging Tsunahime to go out. 

“It’ll be fun to go shopping, won’t it. A little girl time for daughter and mother?” Sawada Nana will say while her daughter looks at her as if Nana has just wronged her. Tsunahime opens her mouth, lips cracking even more because she won’t drink water anymore.

“Mama there isn't anyone here except us.”

Her mother will stop, looking at her daughter with a willfully confused expression and a faint trembling of her lips while shrinking into herself. Nana’s stomach will drop every time she sees her daughter doing the same thing, so Nana will start bustling around the house talking aimlessly. Anything is better than the frigid silence that takes over the house when her daughter is home and Nana cries because what kind of a mother would rather her daughter be with her friends all day than spending a little time with her. It is always a relief when her daughter's friends will wander into the house with treats and sushi, bringing laughter into Nana’s home and lighting it up with something beautiful and airy that Nan only seems when her husband returns. 

Yamamoto is the most considerate out of all of them, Nana thinks while smiling to herself. Nana remembers the first time that Yamamoto Takeshi first wanders into their house, holding a stack of papers, from their teachers, he said. Nana had smiled at the only person from her Tsuna-chan’s school that came to their house and offers him tea and snacks. Because sometimes that’s all Nana can do. She can’t seem to get her husband to stay with her, or for him to say in one place, she can’t get her daughter to talk to her and sometimes the weight of everything Nana can’t do seems to press against her shoulders and bow her back with the failure.

Yamamoto shuffled into her house with trepidation that made Nana wince. The opening of the door must have alerted Tsuna because she thundered down the stairs and skidded to a halt in front of Yamamoto. A fire in her eyes that lit up her face in a way that Nana hadn’t seen in years and Nana immediately turned to Tsuna exclaiming, "Why don’t you show Yamamoto-san your room. I’ll bring up snacks in a little bit.” Tsuna had looked at her with the usual expression of stupefied fear and nervous tension in the lines of her forehead. 

“Oh you don’t need to do that Sawada-san, I just came to drop off-”

“You can come up if you want”, Tsuna whispered. The reply glaringly loud in the sudden silence that takes over the three bedroom house. Yamamoto Takeshi looks at Nana’s daughter awkwardly. Nana has no doubt to what is running through that boy's mind, she knows her daughter isn’t popular and that her constant companions are bullies and not friends. For some reason, though, that no one will ever be able to identify Yamamoto Takeshi nods his assent.

Tsuna turns on her heels with one more glance at the lanky and tan teenage boy loitering in the doorway. She treads up the stairs with careful motions, as if she expected the wood beneath her to give out at any moment. Yamamoto, because he is Yamamoto and not Takeshi right now that will come later follows her up the stairs and the dark hallway to a room with a wooden fish plaque on it. The fish disturbingly cheery in the otherwise eerie quiet of the Sawada household.

“This is me,” Tsuna says and opens the door to her room.

She doesn’t hold the door open for Yamamoto or offer him a seat when the boy clambers through. 

“Oh. I like your room. It’s…” starts Yamamoto.

Tsuna turns away from him and sits at the edge of her bed. She knows her room is barren compared to the teenagers that Yamamoto is friends with. There are no posters, or old stuffed animals, or any color except for the sunset shade orange painting the walls. Besides the bed and dresser, there is a lone bookcase that seems to groan under the weight of all the thick, yellow-paged books crammed into its shelves and more books put into piles on the floor. Yamamoto briefly wonders why Tsuna doesn’t have another bookshelf, she certainly had enough room for another one. 

“You don’t have to pretend to like it if you don’t Yamamoto-san.” 

Yamamoto jumps at the even voice. His heart is thundering in his ribcage and he suddenly can’t seem to swallow anymore. Tsuna is curled on her bed staring at him. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that expose her creamy legs that were bruised for the world to see and a ridiculously large sweater the clearly wasn’t hers. Yamamoto blanches at thinking about the bruises the sweater must be covering

“I’m not pretending. I like your room,” he insists, lying through his teeth, “ I’m just surprised by all the books here I didn’t know that you liked to read. I mean at school you never…” ,  the boy trails off uneasily.

At school, Tsuna was called Dame-Tsuna after all and was mercilessly taunted by bullies that were easily three times her size. At school, Tsuna seems so much smaller and ordinary than she does in her own home. 

Tsuna smiles bitterly, “I didn’t think you noticed me at school.” Yamamoto barely holds back the flinch at her tone.

He knows she is referring to all the times that Yamamoto has watched one of his friends taunt her for being stupid, or boring, or ugly. He never stopped them before, and he didn’t stop the group of boys that decided to follow her home one day and “teach her a lesson about going to school with regular people”. A lesson that Tsuna would not have made it out of alive if it weren’t for Hibari. Yamamoto’s dad had been horrified and his son had wilted guiltily at the furious look in his father’s eyes.

 _Just because you didn’t help those monsters attack her doesn’t mean you are less responsible Takeshi_ , his dad had thundered.

Yamamoto had ducked his head and spent the whole night awake, listening to his own thoughts that threatened to drown him under a torrent. He bit his lip thinking about how out of everyone in the whole school, Tsunahime was probably the only person that didn’t hold ridiculous and hypocritical expectations for him. Tsunahime was the only person that didn’t constantly say “we rely on you” in an effort to push all the responsibility onto him, and he had almost let her be killed. 

“I’m sorry, I-,” Yamamoto stuttered. Barely able to speak against the rush of heat constricting his throat and pricking the corners of his eyes.

Tsuna sat up abruptly, hair swaying in an invisible breeze. “You’re sorry,” she atoned flatly. Her eyes that seemed to have always been a dull brown lit up with the sunlight filtered through her curtains. Bright orange irises seemed to stare him down, daring him to say anything. “What are you sorry for Takeshi.” His first name sounded like a curse on her tongue and Yamamoto was frozen at the unexpected fight in the girl. “Are you sorry for me almost dying at the hands of your bastard friend who are fucking off somewhere without you,” Tsuna’s voice steadily rose. “Are you sorry for the fact that you just let them hurt me, not even caring about how it was so _fucking wrong_ for them to even touch me. Do you think that bringing my homework is going to make it better.”

Yamamoto seemed to deflate under the tiny girl's verbal assault, guilt making his knees shake and bottom lip quiver. The heat in his eyes manifesting as tears, that were very quickly going to fall if the girl kept up her righteous anger.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes, Takeshi. You came here to apologize for the being a complete asshole who can’t see out of his baseball team’s ass,”

Yamamoto never thought the girl could be so vulgar, she seemed so timid at school. Though he was quickly learning that Tsuna at school was completely different from Tsuna at home.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Tsuna bellowed.

Yamamoto snapped out of his own misery to stare at the girl who had somehow risen to her feet and gotten right in his face without him noticing. “I notice the way you act at school,” the sun bathed Tsuna in a way that made her skin glow and bruises seem less prominent and her hair turned into fire, “ you look like you are going to cry every day.” 

Yamamoto gasped in shock. How did this girl notice the dark depressing shadowing him every day when his own father couldn’t. Tsuna sneered at him, “ we are exactly the same Takeshi, except you are too much of a coward to show it.”

“Tsuna?” came a soft pleading voice from the door. Both Yamamoto and Tsunahime turned to see Sawada Nana shakily holding a tray filled with tea and cookies.


End file.
